The Slot: A Rochester Riot Sports Romance

by Colleen Charles

  She knocked twice but didn’t wait for a response. She swung the door open before her bravado deserted her. She saw Sheehan sitting at his desk in an awkward position, his head bowed down toward his lap. “Mr. Murphy,” she said briskly. “I’ve heard rumors that you’re planning to dismiss me, but before you do, you should know–”

  Murphy’s head snapped up. “Get out!” he screamed, his face rosier than one of Kylie’s outfits. Movement beneath Murphy’s desk caught Eloise’s eye, and she cocked her head sideways to get a better look.

  “Oh my God, who’s under there?” she asked, taking a few steps farther into the room.

  “Get out!” Murphy yelled again. “Don’t you ever fucking barge into my office, you stupid bitch!”

  Eloise felt her stomach lurch at the realization his pants were undone. Someone was giving him a blowjob from under his desk. Was it Barbara? That would explain a lot. Sheehan grabbed at his pants to pull himself back together.

  “Are you deaf as well as stupid?” he yelled, sweat beading on his forehead. “Get the fuck out!”

  “No!” Eloise shouted, no longer giving two shits about her job. There were others all across the country. Ones that wouldn’t force her to compromise her integrity by becoming an unwilling accomplice in white-collar crime. Determined to find out who lurked under the polished, exotic wood desktop, Eloise pushed forward into the plush office. If Barbara had been forced to perform fellatio on her boss, she might need help and legal protection. She stepped around the side of the desk and peered underneath. Eloise hissed in a breath so deep and hard she reeled back and stumbled into a leather guest chair.

  Kristoff Helios crouched beneath the desktop, his head in Sheehan’s lap. Eloise stumbled to her feet, her legs barely supporting her weight, covering her mouth with her hands. “Oh my God,” she moaned, her voice muffled behind the web of her fingers. Kristoff crawled out and stood up but kept his eyes on the floor as he bolted into the hallway.

  Sheehan hitched up his pants and rose from his chair, stabbing a finger in Eloise’s direction. “You will forget what you saw, or you’re out on your ass without a pot to piss in, understand?” he said, his voice full of venomous intent. “And I will make sure you never work in professional sports again, even as the night janitor in the arena.”

  Eloise still felt nauseous but pulled her last shred of dignity and her cell phone from her pocket and dangled it in the air between them, its recording indicator flashing. “You can shove your threats right up your ass, Sheehan Murphy. I’ve been recording everything since I came in this room. Not only that, but I have evidence that you bribed a city official yesterday, recorded on this same phone, and I plan to make the evidence public. Wanna see it?” She thumbed the phone’s screen and started the recording from the previous day. Sheehan’s face went pale.

  He cleared his throat. “It seems I’ve underestimated you, Miss Robertson. Clearly, you want something… what can I offer you to delete that footage? A raise, perhaps? Stock options? And of course, a new phone? That would make it simple for both of us. Anything you want, just name it.”

  Eloise exhaled a tense breath. “I’m glad you asked,” she said cannily, circling her steps toward the door. “I want you to relinquish the Chief Operating Officer position to Lou Spieker. Keep your nose in your whiskey business, and step back from any and all negotiations and direction for the club, its players, and its staff. And I want a new contract.”

  Sheehan laughed. “Oh, get over yourself, you overachieving bitch. I own the Rochester Riot. I can do what I damn well want with it.”

  “I’m glad you feel so cavalier about all this,” Eloise continued, “because yesterday’s video is already in the hands of investigative reporter Tom Lyden at FOX 9 and also in our Twitter feed, set to go live at noon today. If you don’t agree to turn things over to Lou, I’m pretty sure today’s conversation will also be of interest to Mr. Lyden. Your reputation will be ruined, personally, professionally, and permanently. Is that what you want?”

  Sheehan fumed silently, his eyes glistening like a shark’s, his fists clenching and unclenching. “Fine,” he said between gritted teeth. “Tell Lou the job’s his. But you, princess, had better grow eyes in the back of your head. Because I’m coming for you one day, trust me.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Cole?” Eloise spoke into her phone. “Where are you?”

  “I’m at Blues. Why?”

  “Great. Stay right there, I have something to tell you.” She disconnected and hurried out of Lou Spieker’s office inside the Rochester Arena. When Lou had called her into a meeting the day after her altercation with Sheehan Murphy, she felt certain she’d be fired. But her bluff had worked. Murphy backed down and turned things over to their GM. It was a gamble that paid off, and as a result, Lou had proposed something beyond her wildest aspirations. She couldn’t wait to tell Cole.

  When she arrived at Blues, she found Cole near the stage playing his guitar. She didn’t see Trey anywhere. He looked up as she approached and set down his instrument, fitting his guitar pick between the strings on the neck.

  “Hey, what’s up, pretty doughnut-lady?”

  Eloise realized she was out of breath with excitement. “Are you ever going to quit calling me that?” she asked. “I think we’re past it by now.”

  “I kinda like it,” he said, walking toward her. “Reminds me of the night we met. Best night of my damn life.”

  “You mean the night we didn’t meet. I didn’t even get your name,” she laughed. “And you lied to me too.”

  “I lied?”

  Eloise lifted her eyebrows. “I distinctly remember standing on the curb and asking you if you were a poet. And you answered in the negative. The Beantown Bard ring any bells?”

  He laughed and pulled her in for a sweet kiss on the lips. “That, my dear, is what we call a half-truth.”

  Eloise ignored his evasion. “I have some news for you,” she said. “Trevor too. Where is he?”

  Cole shrugged. “Uh, he’s… out. What’s your news?”

  “Well,” she began. “Lou has asked me if I’d be interested in the COO job for the team now that Murphy has stepped back. I can hardly believe it myself, but Lou and I have always got on well, and he thinks I’d be a good fit. He’d rather remain as the GM. That means I can help the local business owners. I can make the club into a better corporate citizen. We can create a true partnership with the community, help it grow by featuring all the local businesses within our advertising campaigns, rink boards, center clock, ice decals, you name it.”

  Cole’s face seemed fixed in a neutral expression, like a stalled video stream. “That’s… that’s extraordinary,” he said after a few moments. “Wow. Who’d have thunk?” He walked past her to the coffee machines and started tinkering with the controls.

  Puzzled, she followed him across the floor. “Isn’t that good news, Cole? It’s the opportunity of a lifetime for me. This means more money, and the opportunity to do some real good in the community. No more catering to Sheehan’s hidden agenda.” She wrinkled her nose, unable to believe she was about to say the next words, but she did. “I can help Trevor and the other owners.” She paused, waiting for a reaction. Something seemed off. “You guys are still friends, right?”

  The coffee machine switched on, drowning out her words. She sat patiently, watching him create his latest caffeinated masterpiece. He drank it in silence.

  “Cole?” she asked, her anxiety rising. “What do you think? Isn’t that fantastic? Is something wrong? Please talk to me, this is important to me. You’re important to me,” she pleaded.

  He turned to look at her, his electric blue eyes registering disappointment. He seemed tired and restless. Down two games to one in the second round, the team would be headed out of town again in a few days, their playoff drive on the line. Perhaps it was too much to ask for him to be excited about her career.

  “I’m happy for your new job,” he said. “Congratulations. But I have some new
s too. I thought you’d be pleased, but…” he broke off and took a deep breath. “Maybe you and I are headed in opposite directions. Sounds like you’ll be even busier than before. I’ll be on the road half the year. I could be traded to another team, you never know. I don’t think it’s the kind of life you’d want. Because you’re Eloise Robertson. Always kicking ass and taking names.”

  Eloise felt her chest crushing in. Just when she thought she’d solved all the problems, cleared all the hurdles, it sounded like he wanted to break up with her. The idea of not being with him made her insides go hollow, and the feeling was unbearable.

  “Don’t say that,” she said, a shudder in her voice. “I want a life with you, Cole. I’ll make it work. You’ll see.”

  A doubtful smile crossed his features, then disappeared. “Sure. You say that now.”

  “I mean what I say. You should know that about me by now. What’s your news? I really want to hear it.”

  Cole looked up at the ceiling, then at the walls. “This,” he said, gesturing to the space around them. “I made a deal with Trey. He needed the money, and I have tons of it. Eventually, I have to start thinking about my life after hockey.” He sighed. “You’re looking at the new owner of Blues & Brews, soon to be renamed Casa Fiorino. I’m thinking of turning it into an authentic Italian bistro featuring my mom’s recipes.”

  Eloise’s jaw dropped open in surprise. “Really? That’s totally brilliant!”

  “Well, of course, I can’t run it myself and be on the team,” he said.

  “Spud can run it, he does that already,” she offered.

  Cole nodded. “Sure, but he has no marketing skills. I was thinking… maybe you’d run it. As my partner,” he said, looking into her eyes. “In everything.”

  Eloise returned his gaze, trying to determine if he was saying what she thought he was saying. Her heart felt twisted in two directions. “Is that your warped idea of a proposal?”

  ***

  Eloise sat waiting outside Lou Spieker’s office. The last few weeks had been a blur, a thousand things to consider and weigh against each other. She thought about her conversation with Sophia and the wisdom their mother had shared with all her girls. Love is more important than work. Sometimes you got lucky and could have both, and Eloise felt lucky indeed.

  She’d found a good gynecologist and arranged for a consultation. Her test results came back favorable, the doctor indicating there was no reason to believe she couldn’t conceive or carry a baby to term with the intervention of a fertility specialist, and the best in the world resided right in Rochester at the Mayo Clinic. Eloise’s attention to her health and diet being a major factor. Suddenly everything seemed possible, all her dreams within reach. But sometimes, to reach one dream, you had to let go of another. Eloise felt certain she was choosing the right one.

  The door to the office opened, and Barbara stepped out. She looked happier than Eloise ever remembered seeing her. “Hi, El,” she said, her short blonde locks bobbing as she nodded in greeting.

  “Hello, Barbara. Good to see you,” Eloise said with a smile.

  “Good to see you too. I hear congratulations are in order,” she said.

  “Thank you. It’s wonderful to have such a great opportunity.”

  “You’ll make a great COO,” Barbara said, reaching to shake Eloise’s hand. “I’ll look forward to working with you.”

  Eloise clasped Barbara’s outstretched hand. “I’m glad you’re staying on with the team.”

  “Me too. I promise to do my best as the new Communications and Community Relations Director. I have some big shoes to fill.”

  “You’ll be great. See you around,” Eloise said.

  “Thank you.” Barbara waved and left the room looking positively buoyant.

  “Eloise?” Lou called from his doorway.

  “Hi Lou,” she answered, following him into his office.

  “Have a seat,” he said, gesturing to one of the chairs opposite his desk. “You all ready to take on a new challenge? I have the offer letter and your contract right here, all we need’s your signature.”

  “Thanks, Lou.” Eloise sat down, smoothing her skirt into place. “I appreciate your confidence in me. It means a lot.”

  “You earned it, El. You’re an asset to the organization. Always have been.”

  “I’m glad you think so. This is a major turning point in my career.”

  “I’m sure it is.”

  “It’s been a pleasure working with you.”

  Lou nodded in agreement. “Likewise. I look forward to continuing a great working relationship.”

  “I appreciate that, and again, I want to thank you for believing in me and for your generous offer.”

  “You’re welcome.” He handed her a fancy ball point pen.

  “But I’ve decided I would be more fulfilled as the CEO of Casa Fiorino.”

  Lou looked at her curiously, the pen suspended in his hand. “Excuse me?”

  “I’ll stay on until this season’s over, but I’m leaving the Riot,” Eloise said. “Well, professionally speaking. I’ll be in the stands for as many games as possible.”

  Lou smiled and nodded, despite the shocked look on his face. “That’s…that’s wonderful. I’m not sure what to say?”

  Eloise smiled. “How about, ‘can I make a reservation please?’”

  ***

  Cole felt the warm tropical breeze float across his skin. He opened his eyes to see palm trees waving lazily outside their window. Another perfect day in paradise. The Riot made it to the semifinals, but unfortunately, Lord Stanley would have to wait for another year. Cole didn’t mind; it meant he got to be on vacation in Florida that much sooner.

  Eloise’s head lay nestled on top of his chest, still asleep. He combed his fingers through her long chestnut locks, already starting to lighten from the Florida sun. The last two months had been a challenge, but they’d made it work. Until the post season ended, Eloise carried her laptop and cell phone everywhere, and Cole made sure he cut his poker games and nights out with his teammates short in order to spend as much time together as possible. Each day they spent together made him more and more certain she was the one he’d been waiting for. His long history of groupie girlfriends had been a primer, a veritable dictionary of what-not-to-want in a woman, a wife, a mother for his children. But now the definition of all those lay right here in bed with him, snuggled and snoring right next to his heart. He couldn’t wait to get Casa Fiorino up and running when they returned to Rochester.

  She stirred, wiggling against him under the covers. His hand rode the curves of her shoulder, her spine, and her deliciously round rump. The swish of skin against skin made his cock hard, and he hoped she’d wake soon so he could slide it home inside her, fuck her solid, fondle and suck her gorgeous tits and kiss her to distraction all before breakfast.

  His visualizations all went to hell with the sound of her cell phone buzzing on the wicker nightstand next to the bed. The thing rarely stopped. Calls from the office in Rochester still came in with annoying frequency despite playing their last game a full two weeks ago. It was a compromise he’d have to learn to live with. Eloise groaned and rolled over to pick it up, one arm still draped around Cole’s torso.

  “Hello,” she answered in that sexy morning voice he loved. His cock jerked even more stiffly to attention. “Hey, sis. No, no it’s fine. I’m up.”

  Liar, Cole thought. He was the one who was up.

  “What?! No way! OMG, congrats! Getting married, that’s fantabulous. Oh, I’m so happy for you, sweetie!”

  Cole looked down at her arm that lay around his midsection and pried her hand loose so he could hold it in his own. As she talked and dished with her sister, he vaguely wondered which one, as Eloise had two. Not that it mattered, but as he cradled her delicate hand he imagined how nice a ring would look on her dainty finger too.

  They were partners in every sense of the word, and some pressed carbon would make it official. He couldn’t help
but grin as he moved her hand down the length of his body.

  She rose up on an elbow, grinning at him with one hand wrapped around his shaft and another pressing a phone against her ear.

  According to Shredder, a dangerous rebound can drift into the slot. But rebounds weren’t always bad. Sometimes, they were called second chances.

  Yes, he could spend a lifetime with this woman.

  And he would.

  ***

  BONUS STORY – BENCHED

  PART ONE

  By

  Colleen Charles

  Chapter 1

  The ivory and gold antique dresser creaked with every shudder, like it needed a good spray of WD-40. A beveled mirror banged against the wall in perfect rhythm.

  Heather McNeal clutched the mirror with her tapered fingers as she used it to stabilize her petite frame. The tanned flesh of her back was flush with the cool glass. Her eyes fluttered closed, concealing their unique blue color and her lush lips fell open. Tiny pants of breath escaped on sighs. Her long, silky blonde hair clung to her flushed face.

  She wrapped long, slender legs around Mark Spencer’s toned abs and back as he spread her legs wide. Heather’s skirt bunched up around her waist and he snaked an arm around her to yank her closer. The other hand freed her breast from the lacy black push-up bra. He kneaded the plump flesh with his fingers, then bent to taste the rosy tip with a flick of his tongue.

  Adam Spencer inhaled a ragged breath. He knew. Knew what was happening before seeing it with his own eyes. Now, the only thing that mattered was the identity of the man with his pants down around his ankles. The one he was about to kill.